


That's a wrap!

by bobadeluxe



Category: Dungeons and Daddies (Podcast)
Genre: At the mountain of dadness, Blood and Injury, Body Horror, Canon-Typical Violence, Groundhog Day, M/M, Mild Gore, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Period-Typical Racism, Rating May Change, Time Loop, Torture
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-04
Updated: 2020-09-06
Packaged: 2021-03-06 15:46:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 9,106
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26291356
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bobadeluxe/pseuds/bobadeluxe
Summary: Today is Meryl's last day on the set of Heart's Greatest Desire.
Relationships: Stud Stampler/Meryl Streep
Comments: 13
Kudos: 19





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> the lovely folks were talking about time loops so i got an idea. bare with me.

Meryl slams on the breaks, his Duesenberg comes to a screeching halt almost as loud as his cursing. _That was a close one._ His Deusy was hand-built with custom coachwork, and personalized – well, _everything_. Even a single scratch would be a whole ordeal that he does not have the time nor the patience for.

Meryl looks up to the blond behemoth with the death wish, whose skull must be as thick as his forearms. He isn't even looking at Meryl right now, instead he has this.. far-off look on his face, as he stares into the distance. Huh.. No wonder he almost rammed into Meryl's car!

"Watch where you are going!" The man startles at his voice, his blue eyes turn toward him. Did he not hear other people honking and yelling at him? "You're lucky my car is worth more than you!"

"Ah." He tips his newsie hat at Meryl. "Sorry, sir."

Is he sick? He doesn't look well. Whatever, it's not his problem.

"I saved your life, you know." Meryl doesn't wait for the man to agree with him. "Be careful next time."

Meryl drives away at full-speed, leaving him in the dust.

* * *

Meryl slams on the breaks, his Duesenberg comes to a screeching halt almost as loud as his cursing.  _ That was a close one.  _ Today might be his last day on set, but Meryl has no doubt that JJ could still write him off the movie. He would reshoot the entire film with a new lead just to spite him, contract be damned.  _ Heart's Greatest Desire is looking for a new lead. Must be punctual. _ Even if Meryl hit someone along the way, JJ would say it's not an excuse to be late.

Meryl looks up to the lucky fella. He doesn't know it – _ and how could he? look at him, his head is in the cloud _ – but he just narrowly avoided a gruesome death. His Deusy is a luxury race car with an engine so powerful, all those muscles would be bashed into a pulp. His loved ones would have to scrape him off the street for the damn funeral.

"Watch where you are going!" The man turns to look at him, blue eyes widen. "You are lucky my car is worth more than you!"

"Oh my god." His jaws drop to the street. "You are Meryl Streep. I can't believe I didn't recognize you the first time."

Meryl frowns. What, this man had the blessing to meet him in person  _ twice _ , and he didn't even recognize Meryl the first time? Truly undeserving. Even now it took him several seconds to realize, and not immediately as he laid his eyes on him. How is that possible? He is Meryl Streep, dammit. Perhaps something is wrong with his eyesight, that would explain it.

"I saved your life, you know." God, Meryl wishes he  _ did  _ hit him with his car. "Be careful next time."

"Wait!"

_ What nerves.  _ Meryl has places to be, and things to do. He's already driving away, thinking that if somehow this fool is lucky enough for there to be a  _ next time _ , he better capitalize it.

* * *

  
  


Meryl slams on the breaks, his Duesenberg comes to a screeching halt almost as loud as his cursing. Nothing is going right this morning, is it? He's running late to his last day on set, Wu is going to be mad at him, and someone almost hit his poor car. The blood and guts would've looked garish on the ivory fittings.

Meryl looks up to the –  _ fuck!  _ How long has he been staring at Meryl?! He did NOT expect him to be standing this close to the car, and to be staring so intensely his blue eyes almost pop out of his skull.

"You don't remember me." Who the hell. "But uh, I just have to say – you were terrific in Bullets over Bangkok."

Well, consider Meryl  _ fucking weirded out. _ Meryl is no stranger to overenthusiastic fans; the interaction between him and his fanbase have always been questionable. Married women unabashedly flirted with him while their husband watched. Fur coats draped over the sidewalk because he grimaced at a puddle. With that said, this is the first time a _ man _ throws himself at Meryl's car to tell him– what was it? Bullets over Bangkok? That was one of his early works. He wasn't even famous yet.

"I love how you – "

"I saved your life, you know," Meryl reminds him. Whatever he did well in that movie, surely it isn't worth throwing your life away just to tell him. Meryl knows he's great, and he's already been paid anyway. He couldn't care less. 

"Yes, yes, I know. You've told me that. You won't remember this, but you need to know that your performance struck me – "

"Be careful next time!" Meryl yells as he drives away. What an odd man.

* * *

Meryl slams on the breaks, his Duesenberg comes to a screeching halt almost as loud as his cursing. Wait, where did that man go? Meryl swears he saw a man crossing the road. A caucasian man, taller than your average joe. Barrel chest, broad shoulders, impossible to miss. It was why he stopped the car.

He hears someone groaning from in front of the car. Did he..?  _ Impossible.  _ There is no way! If he hit something, he would've felt it!

Meryl steps out of the car to check. Sure enough, the man who fits the exact description Meryl had in mind is lying on the street. He holds one knee close to his body, groaning in pain. His (admittedly) handsome face contorted in a grimace. Meryl's initial panic gradually fades as he looks over his 'victim'. The newsie cap still affixed to his head. The well-worn, off-white shirt, but otherwise spotless. There's not even a speck of blood. His knee? It looks  _ fine. _

"You hit me," he lies, in his New York accent that might be fake too,  _ the fraud _ . "Oh god, my leg!"

Meryl kicks him in the ribcage.

**"Ouch!"** His body curls up upon impact, and he lets go of his supposedly injured leg.

"Like hell I did," Meryl scoffs. "Do you see what I'm driving? This is a Duesenberg! The car that won the French Grand Prix! If I hit you, you would be  _ dead. _ "

The man is so confused, he forgets to pretend to be injured. "Do you  _ want  _ me to be dead?"

"I  _ expected  _ you to be dead. It'd be insulting if I hit you and you survived. You should be looking like ground beef right now."

The man stands up to his full height, which.. is a lot taller than Meryl saw from the distance. He steps back, unsure what he's going to do next now that he gives up the act. By the third step, Meryl is backed against his own car. Muscular arms trapping him into place as the smell of smoke threatens to overwhelm him. Meryl looks up to meet the bastard in the eyes, and is met with a disapproving look.

"I wanted to see you again  _ so _ bad," he mutters under his breath. "And you turn out to be.. awful! You're a horrible person."

Meryl is stunned. "You can't speak to me this way."

"Oh? What are you going to do, stop me?" He leans in even closer. The sneer looks foreign on his face somehow, like he isn't used to wearing it. "You won't remember this anyway. I can say whatever I want. You, sir, are a.. dream-ruiner! Yeah, that's right."

"It's not my fault that I'm not the person you expected me to be." Meryl flinches at the tone of his voice. That didn't come off as strong as he thought it'd be. "What do you know? You just conjured up whatever twisted idea you have of me in your head, based on my movies."

The lunatic blinks owlishly at him, suddenly at loss for words. "Uh."

"But that's besides the point, you tried to manipulate me into thinking that I hit you with my car! Did you expect me to be  _ nice  _ when you did that? You are lucky my car is worth more than you!"

That snaps him out of his trance. He is blushing now, the tip of his ears turning red, deeply embarrassed. "Oh no. I am so sorry, Mr. Streep."

He steps away. Doesn't look tall now, does he, cowering like that. If he was a dog, his tail would be between his legs, droopy ears falling to his eyes. Hm. Meryl has half a mind to sue him, but he looks.. poor.

Then, for some reason, he starts rambling. "You didn't know that we… Just because you won't remember it, doesn't mean I can treat you however I want. There are still consequences to my actions, they are just not permanent. I'm sorry. I'm not usually like this. I think I might be losing my mind."

Meryl has no idea what any of that means, but the man looks troubled. It's worrying. Whatever he got going on isn't any of Meryl's business, but.. ugh, the best he could do is not adding onto it. Meryl supposes he can look over this incident for now.

"I saved your life, you know." Both by not hitting him, and not pressing charge.

He nods. "Yes, sir. Thank you. Sorry again."

Meryl shakes his head. "Just.. be careful next time."

He steps back to the car, and drives away.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> \- usually i oblige by the joke spelling of jj abrams but this time i dont wanna do it
> 
> \- thank you faultlessfinish for naming the movie Bullets over Bangkok! i love it
> 
> \- if you dont recognize the name Wu, he came from my other fic 'Now that's a stud' (horrible name) but you dont gotta read, its not relevant. i just reuse my chars a lot.
> 
> \- this fic is primarily Meryl/Stud because I have a problem, but Hildy and Robert will be here too! (As well as some other chars from amod) I just prefer to tag stuff as they appear, instead of tagging in advance.
> 
> i have quite a few wips now but.. i cannot resist!!.. writing goblin go brrrrr


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> heed the tags!! cw for the ones that apply here: torture, mild gore, blood and injury, canon-typical violence, torture. theres also a brief (but non-graphic) mention of eyes horror

"You're late. Again."

Meryl rolls his eyes; he is not going to dignify with a response. As far as he's concerned, he could never be late. He's the lead, after all. What can they do without him? If anything, they're early. The schedule should revolve around  _ him _ , not the other way around. He is the most essential part of the movie.

Blatantly ignored, JJ seethes  with rage. Meryl braces himself for verbal abuse and temper tantrum, but nothing happens. JJ takes a deep breath, and by some sheer miracle, calms himself down.

"Whatever, just go get yourself ready. Please." He turns his back to Meryl. From behind, he could count at least five strands of gray hair. This movie sure aged him like milk.

Meryl is, of course, flawless, and never had to concern himself with such things. Wrinkle? What is it? Pfft.

Flawless or not, there is still the process of hair, make up, and wardrobe to go through. Meryl is rushed into the dressing room by a harried-looking PA, and later joined by a makeup artist he does not recognize.

Usually he wouldn't care, but something about her intrigues him. "Do I know you?"

A spunky young woman smiles back at him. Her short, sandy blonde hair seems to bounce along with her movement. She has a weird way of holding her makeup brushes, as if they were utensils.

"I'm Sally Stripes, the make up girl!" Huh. That doesn't ring any bell whatsoever. "Yeah, that's my name!"

..What a strange thing to say. "You worked on other movie sets before, Sally?"

"Uh." She hesitates for a second. "No..no, this is my first job."

_ Oh _ , there it is. She must be nervous about her inexperience then, judging by her.. everything. Though Meryl doesn't blame her. As long as she does her job right, he doesn't have any problem.

Once he sits down and lets Sally work her magic, she takes the chance to strike up a conversation. "Today is the final shoot, how are you feeling Mr. Streep?"

The talkative type, huh? Usually the makeup girls want him to shut up and stay still. They all say he's insufferable to work with, unless they happen to be a fan. Though in that case they would stop around the third week. Never meet your heroes.

"I'm glad to finally get it over with," Meryl decides to humor her. "JJ is a fucking joke. He thinks himself clever, but his movie about the 'randomness of the universe' is the most predictable thing I've ever seen."

Sally laughs a hearty laugh. Meryl can tell she likes his answer. She seems more relaxed too, perhaps because she didn't expect him to express his opinion so openly. Other actors would mince words to preserve their professional relationship or foe the sake of being polite. Not Meryl.

"I'm not a fan of the romance plot myself. It goes nowhere – drives me nuts!"

**"Right?!"** _Finally_ , someone with a brain. "Now I have to go out there and confess my undying love to her before the world is torn asunder. Makes no goddamn sense."

They chat for a while as she does his makeup. Sally sure is a curious broad, she asks Meryl more questions than he's ever been interviewed. Most of it has to do with JJ, Heart's Greatest Desire, and his experience on the set. Though some of the questions are about actors unrelated to the movie, and showbiz itself. Meryl is glad to answer every single one of them. The non-famous could only wonder what it's like as the outsiders looking in. They live vicariously through stories, and hope the glamour of hollywood would rub off on them.

" – but you didn't hear it from me." Meryl finishes up his story about a certain actor's drug habit that he probably shouldn't tell anyone. 

Sally whistles, long and low. "That's.. incriminating stuff, Mr. Streep."

"Mm." Meryl isn't worried. What could she do with the information? No one is going to believe her.

Sally reaches for another palette. It has dark purple, green.. all sorts of ugly shades. In the scene, his character escaped from the incomprehensible horror after failing to outsmart the chaotic universe with human logic. (That sounds like smart writing, but it's just JJ constantly pulling shit out of his ass 'because randomness' so the audience couldn't possibly come to the conclusion by themselves.) He's supposed to be bruised, bloody, beaten up.. Meryl doesn't really get it. The movie is shot in black and white. What's the point?

"Don't go overboard now," Meryl warns her. " _ This  _ is the money maker. People pay money to see  _ me.  _ You don't want to cover my handsome face with bruises."

Sally looks skeptical. "But the director said.."

Meryl looks at her reflection in the mirror. "We both agree that JJ's opinion is not to be trusted. Trust me on this instead." 

"Alright, if you say so." Sally resumes her work.

_ Last day on set, huh. _ Meryl couldn't wait to never come back here again.

* * *

"You're late.  **Again!"** JJ is pulling at his own hair, nearly ripping them from his scalp. 

Wow,  _ someone _ didn't have their morning coffee. 

"This is never going to change, isn't it? No matter how many times we do this – " JJ barely suppresses his urge to scream before continuing on. " – You. Will. Always. Be. Late."

Meryl opens his mouth to explain himself, but decides against it. Better not feed more fuel to the flame. JJ doesn't care why he's late, even if he  _ did  _ kill someone with his car on the way over. The obsessive maniac only cares about finishing this movie.

He leaves JJ to stew in anger so he could get ready. Hair, makeup, wardrobe. Today's makeup girl is a woman Meryl doesn't recognize. Slight, young thing with a pep in her step, which comes to a halt when Meryl acknowledges her.

"Do I know you?

She frowns at him. "Yes? I'm Sally Stripes. The makeup girl."

Meryl gives her a blank stare.

"We talked yesterday. You told me stories of how you made it in this industry?"

Ah, he probably did. Maybe. It's hard to remember people's faces and names when they aren't important. "Sorry, doll."

_ Sally _ wouldn't let it go though, and keep trying to make him remember her. "We did! I introduced myself to you on the day of the final shoot."

" _ This  _ is the day of the final shoot," he reminds her.

Sally doesn't say anything for what feels like a full minute. She keeps staring at him, dumbfounded.

Then she acts like nothing happened. "Of course! Hahaha, silly me! How – How was your morning commute, Mr. Streep?"

The abrupt change of topic and attitude is a bit odd, but Meryl appreciates the opportunity to complain. "Oh, it was horrible. A man almost hit my car."

He tells her all about it. How the man implied he met him before, but didn't recognize him the first time. How rude was that? Oh, and he was very tall. Sally nods along, but doesn't contribute much to the conversation, which is fine by him. She needs to focus on her job after all. She then reaches for a new palette, and Meryl grimaces.

"Don't go overboard–"

Sally interrupts before he could finish. "MR. STREEP! You have a – lovely jawline!"

Okay. First of all, rude. Second of all, "Go on."

"Women, we, uh.. we like men who look beaten up. The bloodier, the better. It makes them look plenty rugged. I was thinking that lesser actors would be afraid to cover their faces in such a way, but you must have no problem, right? Because of your.. recognizable jawline."

Well, part of that is true, but he isn't so sure about the other thing. Do women really like that? No one ever told him that before. Why is this information new to him? Though Sally would know, wouldn't she, as the makeup girl. He can't make a fool out of himself by admitting his ignorance out loud.

"Yes, of course!" Meryl plays along. "I've played all manner of beasts and villains. I've put on all sorts of costumes and makeups you could imagine and yet, the audience can always tell it's me."

"Because of your.. jawline."

Meryl shrugs. "Sure."

"Oh, I'm glad you agree," she says, sounding relieved. A weight is lifted off her shoulders as she exhales. "Because I have a – a gut  _ feeling _ that if this doesn't look believable enough, JJ is going to be mad. Extremely, unreasonably,  **violently** , mad!"

Meryl doesn't get to respond or ask questions; he is being  _ drowned _ in makeup and fake blood. Sally spares no expenses. His supposedly recognizable jawline is most definitely obscured. Ugh, curse this movie. If he never comes back to the set again, it'd be too soon.

  
  


* * *

Meryl arrives on the set expecting to be berated for being late, but he doesn't see JJ anywhere. That's.. good. Meryl's eardrums can only take so much of his outbursts. He feels strange though, like something is amiss. His morning so far has been nothing but bizarre.

A harried-looking PA rushes him into the dressing room. Hair, makeup, wardrobe. The usual. Since it's the day of the final shoot, Meryl would think he's familiar with the crew by now, but the makeup girl is new. 

"Do I know you?" he asks. Something about her eyes stand out to him. If you still have that fire, you haven't been in showbiz long enough.

"I'm Sally Stripes, the make up girl!" Meryl is about to ask her a question, but she answers before he even says it out loud. "No, this is my first job. Let's get this over with as fast as we could this time. Today is the final shoot, how are you feeling Mr. Streep?"

Uh. She's coming on way too strong for his liking, but Meryl would gladly take any opportunity to complain. "I'm glad to finally get it over with. JJ is a fucking joke – "

"Oh my god, nevermind. You just say the same thing every time."  _ Pardon?  _ "How was your morning commute, Mr. Streep?"

Actually, he would like to talk about  _ that _ more than JJ and his stupid movie script. 

"Oh, it was horrible. A man threw himself at my car to talk about  _ Bullets over Bangkok. _ "

Sally's makeup brush stops halfway in midair before it reaches his cheekbones. Her eyes light up. "That's new!"

"Yes, and very odd," Meryl agrees. "As you must know, my fanbase is dominantly female."

"What does this fella look like?"

Typical in every way except for his stature. If their interaction wasn't this ridiculous, Meryl doubts he'd bother to remember a white man with blond hair and blue eyes.

"Traditionally good looking." He could say that, right? "Huge, freakishly tall, muscular. Wears a newsie cap and suspenders."

_ "It's the same man,"  _ Sally mumbles to herself.

Meryl frowns in confusion. "Excuse me?"

"Nothing, sir." Sally resumes his makeup. "Mr. Streep, do you ever feel like you're stuck in a loop, repeating the same day over, and over again?"

"Yes."

She looks genuinely surprised. Wide eyes, mouth agape. "Really?"

"He gives me the same damn note everyday! It's like listening to a broken record. We get it JJ, your movie is  _ random _ ," Meryl scoffs.

Sally deflates. "That's not what I.."

The door is kicked open, cutting off what she is saying with a loud bang. JJ stomps into the room, eyes bloodshot, his hands balled into fists so tightly you see every single vein pop out on his arms. His skin seems paper thin wrapped around his sharp bones and sinewy muscles. JJ is furious, trembling with rage, he could grind his teeth into dust with little effort by the way he is clenching his jaws. Yet instead of his face being red, flushed with anger, blood is drained out of him until he looks purple.

Wow,  _ someone _ didn't have their morning coffee.

"Um, how can I help you, Mr. Abrams?" Sally asks, putting on a brave smile.

JJ turns to look at her, his neck snaps with a loud, painful  _ crack!  _ He looks older than Meryl remembers, impossibly so. There's an increase in gray hair, made obvious by the contrast of white against black. His hair seems thinner too, his hairline receding, a bald, translucent spot at the middle of his skull. Wrinkles disfigure his face, crow feet clawing at his eyes until his skin is pulled slack like hot wax, dripping down. Christ, white people do not age well.

"Have you always been there?" He asks, but does not wait for an answer. "Yes, yes, yes.. you were. Yesterday. Ha.  _ Yesterday. _ Great initiative,  _ bold _ choice of makeup. You know, it was quite curious indeed. People don't usually stray from what they're familiar with. They just go through the motion of being alive, repeating the same routine over, and over again, fooling themselves that they could go against the tide of reality, of chaos. I wonder what made you tick differently."

Sally steps away from both of them. "I'm sorry, I don't understand what you are talking about."

"Do you now?" JJ cranes his neck to look at her, his head nearly falling from his shoulders. His neck is too weak – nothing but a twig, a hollowed out trunk – to support the weight of his skull. "Hm. Maybe. Maybe you don't. But you can help me with something. Do you want to help me? Would you like to help me realize my vision?"

"Of course! That's my job, sir." Huh, that's helpful of her. Surely she isn't paid enough to put up with this philosophical nonsense?

Before Meryl can say anything, JJ is on him. He holds Meryl to the chair from behind, with his arms wrapped around Meryl's neck. His first instinct is to fight, to break away from his hold, escape – anything. Meryl thrashes against the chair, kicking his legs out, clawing at JJ's forearms until his nails are broken and bloody. Meryl is choking; he can't speak. He can only give Sally a desperate look, begging her to run out, and get help. Instead, she rushes toward him as if she can possibly do anything by herself! Sensing her approach, JJ crushes his forearms against his windpipe. The sound of it is as sickening as the pain. Meryl's arms and legs fall limp. Sally stops in her tracks.

"Listen carefully, makeup girl, unless you want him to die."  _ Oh god. No, no, no.  _ "Walk over here, and reach into my pocket."

She does so reluctantly, careful with every step. Her entire body recoils as she makes contact with him, and then she pulls away with a pocket knife.

"Ah-ah, don't get any idea now. Get back over there." JJ takes one arm off of him to push her aside. "Cut him."

"What?!"

"You heard me. Cut his fucking face unless you want him to die!"

Not his face. _ Not _ that, anything but that. Meryl would rather die. Sally doesn't understand his wordless plea, and steps over as if she's going to put on his makeup, but it's certainly not a brush that she's holding.

"I'm sorry, this needs to be done."  _ How could she possibly say that?!  _ "You're going to be fine, Meryl. I promise."

The knife cuts into his cheek and he  _ screams.  _ Broken, choked up noises of anguish pour out of his abused throat until he is breathless, and out of voice. Sally continues to cut his face off, slicing against his skull. Her hand is steady, her mark precise, intending to minimize the pain, and yet he still feels it cut deep to his very soul. His face is a mess of blood and tears.

" _ Oh _ , he is crying," JJ moans in delight. "Beautiful. Now this is what I want to see! That  _ fear.  _ That  **lust** for life. Yes, yes, struggle! Scream! Cry! We might just make an actor out of you yet."

Meryl does until the fight is beaten out of him, and he lays motionless in the chair. His eyes roll up under their lids.

"Look at me." JJ shakes him and back and forth. "Fucking hell, did I break him again already? Cut off his fucking eyelids."

"Sir, he is not breathing.."

**"I SAID FUCKING DO IT!"**

* * *

Meryl arrives on the set late, and JJ.. isn't angry at him? This morning just keeps getting stranger. First he was confronted on a street by a man who did not seem right in the head, and now his director is not yelling at him. He expected the verbal abuse, the degrading names, but JJ is not bothered by his late arrival. It's unnerving how calm he is.

"Had a good night's rest?" he asks.

Meryl is more than taken aback; he doesn't know how to respond. "Y-yes, I had."

"Good. You look well." JJ turns his back to him, and –  _ wow _ , that's a lot of gray hair. Perhaps his old age is mellowing him out. Hm. Isn't he younger than Meryl? "Go get yourself ready."

Ah, yes. Hair, makeup, wardrobe. The usual. The makeup girl is new though, and she is a refreshing sight. Finally, someone who is still young, spirited, and not done with every fucking thing on this set. Everyone looks so damn miserable around here these days, as if colors have been drained out of them.

"Do I know you–"

"You're alright!" She rushes to him, and holds his cheeks between her palms. She turns his head left to right, looking over his face. "Oh, I am  _ so _ relieved. I would never forgive myself if my theory was wrong."

Meryl gently grabs her wrists and pulls her away from him. "Hey, don't just touch the actor. What theory are you talking about?"

"Nothing. I'm just nervous because it's my first day. I'm Sally Stripes, the makeup girl."

A new one, starting on the day of the final shoot? What happened to the previous makeup girl.. the moody one that didn't like him? There has been a lot of changes around here lately. The incompetence of this movie production is glaringly obvious.

Sally starts on his makeup. "How was your morning commute, Mr. Streep?"

"Oh, I was waiting for someone to ask me that," Meryl huffs. "You are not going to believe this. I am late because someone tried to fake a car accident."

"Oh my god, did he really?"

Meryl frowns at her reaction; did Meryl say it was a he? "Yes, he laid down on the street pretending that he was hit. The audacity! There wasn't even a sound."

He tells her all about it. How he thought the man might've done it for money because he looked poor, but then he said something unintelligible that led Meryl to think he might be ill. Nonsense about losing his mind and consequences to one's actions. Sally listens attentively.

She doesn't speak up until he is done. " _ He remembers yesterday. He's trying to change the course of events.." _

"Excuse me?"

"This is not going to make much sense to you, and you won't remember this tomorrow." Sally puts her hands on his shoulders, ignoring what he just said about touching the actor. "But the people on this movie set are being subjected to torment the likes of which you've never seen."

Meryl snorts. "Yes, that's how I'd describe JJ's directing too."

Sally squeezes his shoulders before pulling away. "I will release us all from this purgatory, I promise you that."

Huh. Do all newcomers have this staggering amount of self-importance? "Sure, whatever you say."

Sally finishes up his makeup, applying the fake bruises and wounds. "Break a leg out there! Literally, if need be."

.. Meryl hopes not.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i wrongly estimated the word count of this chapter! it ends up being twice longer than the first chapter. feels unbalanced, but it is what it is.
> 
> im not sure i earned my self that 'graphic depiction of violence' warning, but better safe than sorry.
> 
> this is very fun to write, hope its fun for you to read too.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Heed the tags!

Meryl looks himself over in the mirror. Hair, perfect. It's supposed to look messed up because his character has been in a fight, but really it's indistinguishable from sex hair. Clothes.. fine, it's a tattered, burned suit, but he makes it work. Minimal makeup, just enough to make him look like he's been through some scuffle,  _ but you should see the other guy.  _ All in all, perfect. That's to be expected, he's Meryl Streep after all.

Then he steps outside of his dressing room and almost falls flat onto his ass.

"Oh, sorry!" The sasquatch of a man pulls him up on his feet just in time, and then forcibly shakes his hand. "Hi, my name is Robert Wilson. I'm the line producer. Can we talk?"

Meryl pulls his hand back, and dusts himself off. "Make it quick," he grumbles.

"We are..  _ unbelievably  _ over budget," he lowers his voice to a whisper. "Something is not adding up. I'm looking over my spreadsheet, and it's like we've filmed the final scene a hundred times!"

"And you are telling me this.. why?"

"Well – "

"This sounds like a  _ yo _ u problem," he scolds the producer. "Don't bother me with this nonsense."

"Please, Mr. Abrams won't listen to me." Robert's desperate plea catches him off-guard, making him stop before he walks away. He sounds exhausted to the bones. Working on this movie sure takes a toll on you.

"He doesn't listen to anyone. I can't help you out there."

That's not entirely true. JJ has his head stuck so far up his prestige director ass, hardly anybody dares speak up against him, except Meryl. Although just because Meryl talks back to him, doesn't mean it's a wise thing to do. He can feel JJ planning his murder everytime they get into an argument. JJ is not intimidated by Meryl, he is irritated. If Meryl starts bothering him about his movie budget now on top of everything else, JJ will have his head on a spike by noon.

"We can't afford another reshoot," Robert says. "It would make my job a lot easier if you can..you know, get this scene wrapped up quickly."

Meryl raises his eyebrows at him. "I don't appreciate your insinuation there, Wilson. Are you saying that me,  _ Meryl Streep _ , cannot deliver a perfect performance in a single take?"

To be honest, Meryl is just fucking wirh him. He knows what Robert means. JJ is a perfectionist to a fault; he doesn't accept any imperfection, no matter how minor. Not even when said imperfection is only a product of his own paranoia. It's ironic, he is trying to represent the randomness of the universe, and yet here he is behind the scene making sure everything is immaculate, and up to his impossible standard. He's exerting control over the chaos that is film production. Some would say that it's an impossible task.

Robert Wilson is a dark-haired, bearded, thickset man. He is bigger than Meryl not by much in height, but in mass. He can tell by the cut of his cheap, ugly suit, that behind the misleading layers of fat is a wall of firm muscles. He is not utilizing any of that however, as he is cowering in front of Meryl, already defeated by a slight change of tone, and a hint of disapproval.

"I- I'm terribly sorry, sir. I meant no offense," he stutters. "I would never doubt your acting. It's just that, Mr. Abrams, he can be.. difficult."

Meryl tilts his neck. "Yes, but you are airing your grievance at  _ me _ and not him, aren't you?"

Robert looks like he's about to cry. This is no fun.

"There won't be another reshoot today," Meryl says, and gives the producer a pat on his shoulder. "You do your job, and I'll do mine."

This is not him helping Robert in any way, obviously. Meryl is simply going to demonstrate his acting prowess. It just happens to benefit Robert as well, which is why he is visibly relieved and smiling like a fool.

The final scene of Heart's Greatest Desire is as followed:

The Protagonist (Meryl Streep) has escaped the cosmic horror entity to rendezvoused with The Love Interest (Pierce Brosnan) as planned. She is relieved to see him, and assumes that the abomination must be vanquished by her beloved (whom she just met yesterday or so.) He confesses to her in shame that he has failed, and then there is this long, insufferable monologue about how the mind of a mortal could not possibly outwit the entropy of the universe. Using words like 'antediluvian' and 'madness' a lot to  _ really  _ drive the point home. They embrace each other for the last time, before the stars consume the sky, and the world itself. The end.

This is the first time Meryl plays the protagonist, though it's not that JJ is progressive as much as he is apathetic. His indifference towards the undeniably political nature of showbiz makes it possible for actors like Meryl to land a role, but don't expect it to mean anything. JJ cares more about realizing his pretentious vision, rather than striving to make an impact. He makes the sorts of movies that people in the know wet themselves over, but everyday Americans find them confusing and a bore. His movies will continue to be critically acclaimed, while making no cultural impact whatsoever, until in the future when they look back and say these movies are the best things ever made. 

Meryl finds it utterly banal. His seemingly progressive role falls flat when you realize he doesn't even save the day. He fucks up! And as usual, his character doesn't end up the white female love interest. The apocalypse happens before the Asian man gets the girl, which is funny in hindsight. How is that for the randomness of the universe? One truth still remains the same. Pierce never reciprocates his feelings as they embrace either. It's framed like she's just doing him one last act of kindness before they die, and she's wearing a wedding ring. Although he knows JJ is not trying to make a point – not intentionally – he's just bad at writing romance, and doesn't pay enough attention to the nuances of his casting. Ignorance is hardly preferable to malice, but it's easier to work with.

Meryl learned to grit and bear it. Why must he subject himself to this circus show, he would never know.

This is when it goes wrong:

"Donna," Meryl whispers her name like a prayer. His fingers gently trace over the curve of her cheek. "I've been with many women, been in love with some of them too, but it's you that I spend my last moment with."

"Oh,  _ Sam _ ." At least Pierce is competent, she looks positively tragic. Is this really her character's last words? The name of some mam she just knew? "I.."

"Don't say anything." _Wow, that's worse._ _Interrupting._ "Come here baby, hold your body close to mine, and rub it against me a little bit."

**"Cut!"**

_ Fuck _ , what now? JJ is getting up from his chair and walking toward them. He looks angry. Pierce already pulls away from him, and walks off to get her face touched up. They all know by now that whatever this is, it's going to take a long time. Meryl waits to see if this concerns him or if he should go get some coffee. From the distance, he meets eyes with a miserable Robert Wilson, furiously scribbling something down on his clipboard.

As it turns out, JJ's meltdown has nothing to do with him or Pierce.

**"This. Is. Bullshit.** I don't believe this. This isn't  _ real, _ " he goes on and on like that for a while, tearing his hair out until he stops to gesture Robert over. "Line producer. Hey,  _ hey _ ,  **HEY!"**

Robert looks up from his clipboard, horrified. He couldn't rush over any faster, and almost tripped over himself several times along the way. "I'm, I am so sorry, sir. What's the problem?"

"This is bullshit. This space is bullshit. It's not expansive enough. I want to feel the stars from without, and from within. I want the stars to feel like they are coming from inside of me. So what I want you to do, you are gonna go to the Griffith, you are going to find me some fucking stars at the Griffith. That's what I want, okay? So tell me what you're gonna do."

Robert holds the clipboard tight to his chest, casting his gaze downward. Meryl wonders what would be more effective: showing JJ the budget or using the clipboard as a shield. It's such a ridiculous sight – to see Robert shaking in his shoes in front of the director. JJ can't even reach his shoulders, and both of his legs tied together would still be smaller than Robert's torso. He doesn't have to make himself look small to sooth JJ's ego.

Meryl sighs as he walks over. He can't believe he is getting himself involved. "I don't think that's necessary."

It does not take much to redirect JJ's wrath to himself. He's mad, and rearing to raise hell at whatever dares stand between him and his vision.

" _ You _ are one to talk! You are the least believable aspect of this movie!" He jabs his finger into Meryl's chest. "Look at you. You've just encountered an otherworldly being more terrifying than the mind could comprehend, and there's barely a scrape on you!"

Meryl snorts. "Don't you think it's ironic that you want this horror movie to be realistic?"

" **No.** It's not ironic, because that's NOT what I said! I said  _ believable. _ " JJ looks just about to pop a blood vessel.

"Is that not the same thing?" Meryl feigns ignorance. 

"Holy fuck."

"I don't understand how it is my fault that I am attractive? Cast an uglier actor then if you want someone bruised and beaten."

He did not expect to be punched in the face, but he probably should have. The shock is more jarring than the force behind his fist, but it got him right in his eye, and Meryl finds himself reeling, disoriented. This is out of line – even for an eccentric director like JJ Abrams. A gasp is heard throughout the set; everyone whispers to each other before growing silent in fear. It's so quiet you can hear your own heartbeat, JJ's heavy breathing, and.. a camera?

Did he just hear a shutter? Oh, he hopes someone is taking a photo of this maniac!

"Good," he says with a sadistic grin. "That's a good look on you. That's the spark I'm looking for. But we can do better."

"Are you out of your mind?" The pain is still throbbing behind his right eye, hot and painful in his skull. It's going to bruise. Fuck. "You will pay for this–"

Another punch knocks him down to the floor. Meryl scrambles back up on his feet, but JJ is faster, driven by adrenaline, and crawls on top of him. Sharp knees dig into his thighs, holding him in place like pins to a butterfly's wings – fuck, _it_ _hurts!_ JJ is stronger than expected, much stronger in fact, as he learns when the director starts raining blows on him.

Everyone is snapped out of their stupor after that. He can't see anything but JJ's fist and the insane look in his eyes, but he hears screaming and the sounds of running footsteps. The first person who reaches them, and tries to pull JJ away from Meryl, is Robert Wilson.

**"Hey, stop! Get away from him!"** There's no tremor in his voice. He's speaking with more authority than Meryl as ever heard from him. Not that he is hearing much now – his ears are ringing. He hears nothing but JJ rattling his skull around, and there is. so. much. blood.

JJ's weight is lifted off of his body; Robert successfully pulled him away after some struggling. Meryl rolls onto his side, gasping for breath, his nose broken and stuffed with blood. His face is swollen, his vision blurry, everything is spinning out of control. The only thing he sees with clarity is his own blood dripping down to the floor.

Then someone yells,  **"He's got a gun!"**

_ What?  _ Meryl flips over to look, but his movement is sluggish, slowed down by the pain. He hears a gunshot, a loud  _ thud! _ as Robert's body hits the ground, and turns around to see the blood pooling under him. Is he..? No, no, he is still breathing. Still moving. He's crawling toward his clipboard, a determined look on his face. Not a trace of fear to be found.

The end of a pistol obscures his vision; JJ crouches, and aims the gun at him. At point-plank, the metal feels cold against his forehead.

"We are reshooting the ending," he mutters under his heavy breathing. "We are doing this again. Again.  **Again!"**

JJ pulls the trigger.

* * *

Meryl looks himself over in the mirror. Hair, awful. He looks like he has been mauled by a bear, and it tried to claw his scalp off. They wanted to put _things_ in it too, to make it look like Meryl got dirt and debris stuck in his hair. They only let Meryl go when he threatened to kill himself if they mess up his hair any further. Clothes, disgusting. It's a tattered, burn, bloody suit. Not that it looked any better when it was still intact, his character is supposed to be poor. The makeup has to be the worst aspect of it. You can barely tell it's him under the gore. Fake blood is _dripping_ from him, and his handsome face is mutilated. Ugh. He is not paid enough to look this bad.

To no one's surprise whatsoever, Meryl almost scares someone to death when he steps outside the dressing room.

"Oh my god!" The bearded man nearly jumps into the air, which would be amusing to see considering his burly body. "You scared me there, Mr. Streep."

"Yes, that's the reaction I like to receive," he says, annoyed. The other man just chuckles.

"Hi, my name is Robert Wilson. I'm the line producer."  _ Robert  _ offers him a hand, Meryl begrudgingly shakes it. "Can we talk?"

"Make it quick," Meryl grumbles. The quicker he can wash all of this off, the better.

"This is going to sound cuckoo, but.. lately, there are notes appearing on my clipboard. They are in my handwriting, but I don't remember ever writing it down." He brings out said clipboard from the inside of his jacket.

Meryl turns away from it. What's going on? "And you are telling me this.. why?"

"Well – "

"This sounds like a  _ yo _ u problem," he scolds the producer. Meryl doesn't know who you're supposed to talk to on the set if you start having memory problems, but it's not him.

"You'd think so, right? but please trust me. You need to see this," Robert insists and shoves the clipboard into his face.

**MS DIE RESHOOT**

"MS is Meryl Streep, I think," he wonders out loud.

Meryl steps away from the producer and his cursed clipboard. "Is this a racist thing?"

"Oh no! No, no, no. Oh  **god** ,  _ no _ ." Robert looks mortified beyond words. He suddenly looks very small. "I cannot repeat enough how much this is NOT a racist thing."

Meryl slaps the clipboard out of his hands. "Don't bother me with this nonsense."

He turns to walk away from this.. situation, but then he commits a grave mistake by looking behind him one last time. Robert is kneeling down to pick up the clipboard. The papers must've not been secured well, because they are now scattered all over the floor. He looks pathetic, and not just because of  _ this.  _ It's the ill-fitting suit, the glasses slipping down his nose, and all the hunching and cowering he does. What a waste of potentials.

This is below him – literally – but he kneels down to help Robert pick up the papers anyway. He is not going to pick it all up by himself anytime soon. His hands sweat too much for that Robert looks genuinely surprised to see Meryl get down on his level, because of course he does. He has that look of someone who adjusted to this business by becoming a mat.

"Oh.. thank you, Mr. Streep."

"Don't talk to me." Meryl stacks the paper, not in any particular order. Robert can sort that one out himself. Then suddenly something catches his eyes. "Wait, what is this?"

It's Robert's to-do list. Most of it is work-related, nothing interesting, some of it is personal matters. (Buy a ring? Huh.) At the very end of the list is  _ 'Find a new location for the final scene. Stars? Griffith Park?' _

"I didn't hear anything about a new location." Meryl is ready to cause a scene over this. He did not just drive  _ by himself  _ all the way to Father's Own studio, just for JJ to change the location on a whim. He almost hit someone on the way over here!

(Should've hit him. How did he not recognize Meryl? Especially if he is a fan of his movies.)

"Huh?" Robert pushes his glasses up to the bridge of his nose, and leans over to look at the clipboard. "Did I write that down?"

"Looks like your handwriting."  _ And what a terrible penmanship, too. _

"I didn't hear anything about that either? Oh no, did I forget something?"

Hm. "You got a pen, Robert?"

"Oh, sure. Here you go, sir." Robert reaches into his pocket, and hands Meryl a pen.

Meryl then promptly crosses out the to-do list. "Done."

Robert gasps.  _ "Mr. Streep!" _

"We will just pretend you have never been notified of this. I am not going all the way to Griffith park, are you kidding me? In this outfit?" Meryl gestures to himself.

Robert is not listening to him nor is he looking at the mess Meryl is wearing. "We can't afford to postpone the production any further! Our budget is through the roof, it is  _ so _ overblown, we've been filming this scene a hundred times – "

Robert looks deeply distressed. There must be something going on behind the scene that Meryl is not privy to. Although he's not exactly surprised by this revelation, JJ is.. JJ, and a lot of the budget must be wasted on special effects. If it was up to Meryl, this chaos incarnate whatever-the-hell would just never be in the frame. Isn't it supposed to be incomprehensible anyway? Just don't show it. Show  _ him _ instead, that's what people want to see.

That last part is definitely false though. "What are you talking about? We haven't filmed the last scene yet."

"Oh yeah, that's right." Robert snaps out of his rambling. "..What was I talking about?"

"Nothing." Meryl pats him on the shoulder to encourage him. "You do your job, and I'll do mine."

Strangely enough, JJ never brings up the location change either. He seems a lot calmer now from earlier, when he blew a fuse over Meryl being late.  _ Something just can't change _ , he said, looking somewhat resigned. Meryl would start being more punctual to spite him, but this is his last day on set, and he couldn't be bothered anyway. One thing he does mention before they start is his makeup.

"Why the hell do you look like this?" JJ asks. "Don't get me wrong, I like it, but I don't remember it being this gorey."

Goddamnit, the incompetence of it all. Everyone is just never on the same note, because there is no communication.

"Did you not want me to look like this? The makeup girl made a big deal out of how you'd be mad if I don't look believable."

"Did she now? Interesting." JJ rubs his goatee like an asshole. "Which makeup girl is this?"

Meryl shrugs. "I don't know. I don't recognize her."

"Of course you don't," JJ sighs.

The final scene of Heart's Greatest Desire is as followed:

The Protagonist (Meryl Streep) has escaped the cosmic horror entity to rendezvoused with The Love Interest (Pierce Brosnan) as planned. He's gravely injured, hanging on the edge of death. He's failed to defeat the entity, and thus has brought forth the end of the world as they know it. You'd think if he is still conscious enough to deliver a monologue about his futile attempts to fight the universe itself, he would use that time to do.. something. You wouldn't think he'd spend his last moment with a woman he just met either, but here he is. She cries a lot. They kiss. The world ends, along with the movie.

It's predictable, see, because he dies. Meryl can count on one hand how many of his characters survive their movies, and usually they would suffer a fate worse than death instead. His characters from Bullets over Bangkok  _ did  _ survive, but it's so thoroughly up to debate it's best to just say he died. They left it vague in case of a sequel, but the movie didn't do well enough to warrant one. In a way, this is his most progrssive role yet, because everyone else also dies. It's the end of the world, after all. He's not bested by a white man, but instead by.. randomness? Right, that's not much better. Different story, same result. Though perhaps that's why he still tolerates JJ. Mery would welcome any change at all, however minimal. One man can only play so much Asian caricatures before it gets old.

He's a protagonist now. A dead, incompetnt protagonist, but it's something.

This is when it goes wrong:

"Donna," Meryl chokes out her name with a mouthful of blood. He's laying on the ground, resting his head on her lap as he writhes in agony. "I've been with many women, been in love with some of them too, but it's you that I spend my last moment with."

"Oh,  _ Sam _ ." Pierce cries a single teardrop. Perfect. No snot, no facial muscles movement, just one teardrop rolling down her cheek. "I.."

"Would you kiss me, baby? One last time?"

She kisses him. He kisses her. They kiss. Whatever. It's a very chaste kiss, prim and proper. In Meryl's opinion, it would make more sense if Sam's last kiss is a little more..  _ sensual _ . Whether Donna is married or not, she's going to die any second now. If it was him, he'd want to go out with a bang. Although even JJ has to play by the rules these days. Meryl's recent movies, too, have been increasingly more tame.

**"Cut!"**

Pierce pulls away from him, and yells to the crew. "Ugh, someone get me a glass of water!"

Meryl rolls his eyes. "Oh,  _ come on. _ Many women would kill to be in your place."

"It's not you, Meryl. It's the fake blood, and the horrible, horrible makeup." Pierce already walks away.  _ "I need a touch up!" _

He expects JJ to stomps over, and yells at him about some minor issue that isn't up to par with his standard. Instead, JJ gets up from his chair to pace around in circles. He is banging his head with his fists, muttering under his breath all the while.

_ "They kiss? That's it? The world is in danger, it's gonna end, and they kiss? No, It's not real. It needs to be dark. It needs to be honest. It needs to go out with a bang!" _

Meryl snaps his fingers. "My thoughts exactly!"

JJ startles, and stops dead in his tracks. He looks up to Meryl like he just throws ice cold water on him, his pupils blown wide until his eyes are more black than colors.

Meryl walks over to him. "It needs to go out with a bang."

JJ carefully considers him. "Walk with me."

They take a walk outside around Father's Own studio, which is not much different from taking a graveyard tour. It's a depressing sight, an intimation of something greater than it could ever hope to be. JJ doesn't care to look at their surroundings, neither does Meryl, to be honest. There is not much to look at. JJ keeps his gaze on him the entire time.

They stop outside the studio on the roadside, under the grandiose  _ Father's Own  _ sign itself. JJ lights himself a cigarette, offers one to Meryl, and they both smoke together in a rare moment of peace.

"Do you know why I picked you?" he asks.

Meryl is aware of his great qualities, but he loves to hear people listing them out loud so he lets JJ answer his own question.

"There is a spark inside you. A spark that I want to bring out to the surface. I want you to be  _ real. _ "

Meryl raises an eyebrow. "That's the opposite of acting, but do go on."

JJ ignores him. "Humor me. What do you think should be the ending of Heart's Greatest Desire?"

"Simple," he says with a knowing smirk. "Sex."

"What the fuck."

"Don't you like being pretentious, violent, and controversial? We can't show it, of course, so we will leave it up to the audience's imagination. Just pan over to the stars, and as they burn that will look like – "

"This is a fucking waste of time." JJ looks severely disappointed. "I don't know what I was expecting. Today is running out. We are going to reshoot. I will think of something."

"What, right now – "

JJ pushes him into the oncoming traffic.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've decided that naming Meryl's co-star Pierce Brosnan is more important than making the name makes sense. Sam is his character, and Donna is Meryl Streep's character both from Mamma Mia.


End file.
